


take me with you

by greninja



Series: missteps au [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: M/M, implications of homophobia?, learning to be okay with themselves!, people coping with the fact that gay people are a thing!, unrelated: me sipping on my teen angst juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greninja/pseuds/greninja
Summary: edit like a full year later 3/7/19 lol but i was just thinking about how this is the longest story ive ever written but i ended up disappointed with it so im going through and Renovating for my own edification lol so enjoy if u carethe promised day was two years ago, and ling hasn't spoken to ed since—until he abruptly flees his post as emperor and reappears in ed's life.





	1. here's why i hung up

**Author's Note:**

> (i wrote [this](http://frogadir.tumblr.com/post/171461694564/this-got-so-long-im-so-sorry-just-scroll-past-u) post about it and i wanted to do something more with it! this is my first time writing anything longer than one chapter so, in the noble words of tara gillesbie: "dont flame my story prepz")  
> the fic name is from take me with u by prince! i'll be using songs for all the chapters bc i Love epigraphs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> behind every great love story lies a great suicide / you can't give yourself completely and keep the man inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit like a full year later 3/7/19 lol but i was just thinking about how this is the longest story ive ever written but i ended up disappointed with it so im going through and Renovating for my own edification lol so enjoy if u care

At the peak of one of the hottest summer days on record in Central's history, Edward Elric is slumped in a chair by his open kitchen window. Music from the radio weakly sifts through the thick air as he labors over a transmutation circle, drawn on a sheet of butcher's paper. Winry called him the other day, asking if he could figure out some sort of self-locking mechanism for the storage closet in her workshop. Ed thinks it's really _fucking_ annoying to work on new circles with no one around to test them out for him, but he doesn't have anything better to do on such a stuffy, insufferable day.

He's past the turbulent patch of his life. He spends some time traveling, holed up in train cars and gazing off the decks of boats, since he's never been one to stand still. Still, he has an apartment in Central's downtown, takes odd research jobs, and really doesn't have anything to worry about—but he did anyway.

He didn't want to burden his family with even more problems. He often picked up and quickly threw down the telephone after awakening violently. In the smallest hours of the morning, shaking and sweating, he would run his fingers over the delicate skin where his flesh met metal. He would pinch himself. Pour a drink or two.

Nightmares of the truth are familiar to Ed, dispersed among a new series of images that play out in his head—a charred body sinking into the bloodied floorboards, a hole in the earth where his mother should be, a horrible shudder passing through bodies of philosopher's stone—

Well, it's best not to dwell on those things. He sips his water as the tinny radio crackles to life.

_"Radio Central, bringing you the latest news, every hour on the hour. Reporter Kain Fuery, live. It's just now noon here in the city, and there is a story breaking all the way from Xing's capital—"_

That steals Ed's attention. He usually turns the radio off when stories about Xing are on. Doesn't want to hear a certain name.

"Emperor Ling Yao, effective immediately, has surrendered his role as head of state—" Ed's hand stops, hovering over the dial—"unavailable for comment at the time. His whereabouts are unknown as of now—"

Ed is nonplussed, listening but not absorbing the speech. The advisors' names, who will serve in the interim.

Ling had thoroughly _fucked_ with Ed's head. He'd made Ed laugh, held his hand, kissed him and loved him fiercely, left him, his one and only Ed alone with nothing more than a "we'll meet again someday!" and never said a word. At first, Ed tried to justify this. Maybe he was just too stressed. He certainly couldn't understand how, realistically, Ling could've handled it.

He knew Ling at his most vulnerable, lying awake together in the grass beneath a whole world of stars, helpless and insignificant. Ling's body didn't belong to him. He felt watched from inside himself, disallowed from every thought and urge and desire. He wondered if it was even worth putting himself through this for a family that couldn't care less about him. He worried for Lan Fan and Fu—for all he knew, they were dead and it was his fault—and Ed understood. And it broke his heart.

Ed suddenly switches the radio station, desperate to wrap his mind around anything else. A slow tune waltzes out to meet him. The backs of his eyes burn with a feeling he decides not to swallow.

 

–

 

The heat wave has passed, but not without first tormenting Ed for another week. The Central air is muggy in the evening, and Ed prefers it to the midday scorch. The sky outside shifts in tone as he steps out from his apartment building in Hohenheim's coat.

He starts the short walk to Hawkeye's building. She invites Ed to dinner, periodically, to check in on how he's doing, always nursing an unspoken concern for him.

Ed notes a newsstand down the street. Just as they have for days now, today's headlines scream at him about the _XINGESE EMPEROR CRISIS_ and _YAO IN EXILE!,_ branding the words across his line of sight in bold type.

Ed rolls his eyes, but slows as he passes, stopping to quietly pick up a paper and glance at the cover story.

"I wouldn't trust the Amestrian papers," quips a voice from behind. "There's lots of misinformation being spread."

Ed is, at once, acutely aware of an imposing presence closing in on him. He knows that voice—he's never forgotten its intonation, its lilt, its sardonic turn of phrase— and he doesn't know what to do, and he doesn't understand how or why it's found him, here, or—

"Edward Elric, you can't ignore me _forever._ "

The sound of his own name jerks Ed's head around, placing him face to face with none other than Ling Yao. He's looking worse for wear—unshaven, barely able to hold on to the single trunk he carries, could _definitely_ go for a bath—but it was Ling. Same glint in his eyes, same boldness twisting his face into a maniacal grin.

Ed squints at him, his voice unable to break through the great confusion welling inside him.

"I'm _so_ happy to see you, Ed."

Absolutely past the point of caring, Ed finds himself reaching up to place a hand on Ling's shoulder. "If you'll excuse me for a moment. I need. To make. A call."

 

–

 

"Yeah, everything's fine, Hawkeye, something just came up and I need to stay home tonight but I _promise_ we'll reschedule for next weekend—" Ed practically yells into the receiver. He'd ran across the street to a telephone booth, leaving Ling to stare at him in the dusk.

"Yes, I'll call you back later—I swear, I'm fine, I just _really_ have to go _right now_ , sorry!" Ed sloppily puts down the receiver and runs back to the newsstand, where Ling is waiting, perched on his trunk. He angles himself away from the wall of newspapers, hoping no one would recognize him only seconds after seeing his picture on the front page.

"I could hear you from here. You're so loud." The colors of the waning sunset dress the planes of his face quite nicely, and Ed shamefully tries to cover how flustered he is. Telling Ling the fuck off is the most important matter at hand.

"What are you _doing?_ " Ed yells, clearly ignoring Ling's comment on his volume.

"Shut up, Edward. People are staring at you." It's true. Heads poke out of open windows. A car passes slowly enough to catch the conversation.

"Just—just come with me, okay? Keep your head down." Ed jerks Ling towards himself, slinging one arm over his shoulder and gripping the handle of his trunk with his other hand. "I'm taking you home."

The walk back to the apartment is no longer than a couple blocks, but to Ed, it feels like eternal torture. Ling's side brushes against his with each step, and Ed counters any fondness he feels with a mental barrage of insults at the man next to him. Pissant, stupid, thoughtless, heartless, jackass, idiot! Ed believes himself justified in his anger—after all, Ling had frozen him out for two _years_ with no explanation. Maybe he'd imagined it, but, _no,_ Ed's pretty sure they had been _something,_ at least ambiguously, before that, and radio silence isn't how you should be treating your _friend—_ dare he say, _boyfriend—_

Ling whines like a child. "Why are you so mad at me?"

"I don't _know,_ let me _think about it,_ if you'll give me a minute. Oh. Sorry I didn't get back to you before, I needed _two years_ to _think_ about it." Ed feels his own face flush, and tries to regulate his breathing. They're finally standing at the steps of Ed's apartment building.

"That's not fair."

"How is that even _possible?_ " Ed abruptly stops, almost knocking Ling over. "I was writing you letters at first, they can't have _all_ gotten lost in the mail."

"No, I got them."

"And you never _once_ wrote back?"

"Believe me, I wanted to. I just couldn't."

Ed pushes open the front door with an unsolicited force. "You're so full of shit." He goes inside, haughtily stomping up the stairs to his apartment, Ling trailing close behind.

"Aren't you happy to see me at all?" Ling seems offended, in that fake, pity-seeking way he's so thoroughly mastered.

"I mean, when I find my ex—" Ed stutters as his trembling hand unlocks the door—"the ex-emperor of Xing on the _street,_ when he's supposed to have _disappeared_ , and he was my _best friend_ , but he hasn't _talked_ to me in two years so I kind of _hate_ him right now—"

"You're going to be overwhelmed?"

"I'm going to be a _little fucking overwhelmed._ "

The pair falls into silence. Ed slams the door behind him, and bitterly gestures at the room—a couch, a small kitchenette, a work table. "Welcome."

Ling has a surprising quietude about him. "Can I take a shower?"

"Please."

–

The sound of rushing water rattling the creaky pipes begins to hum, muffled by the walls. Ed picks up the phone, turning the dial in the same resigned pattern as he had earlier. The drone of ringing is agonizing for his worsening headache.

"Ed? Are you still coming over?" He’s grateful to hear Hawkeye's voice—through everything she is the person who says sane, the same, a quiet constant.

"I'm so, so sorry, Hawkeye, but something—something happened, and I can't, not tonight."

"Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine. I just... shouldn't be talking about this over the phone?"

"Edward. You don't need to be so paranoid."

“I guess not.” He pauses. "It's about Ling."

“Do you know something?”

Ed wants to tell, but saying it aloud would make it real—he isn’t ready to admit to himself that he isn’t dreaming.

The sudden absence of running water feels like a _snap_ in the stagnant air, quickly followed by the twist of a doorknob. An immediate panic becomes apparent to Ed.

"I have to _go._ ” He slams the receiver into its stand as Ling steps out of the bathroom, draped in a striped towel.

"Can I borrow some clothes? All mine are dirty.”

“Um—sure?" Ed makes a trip to his closet, rifles through a poorly-folded pile of shirts, hands a blue one to Ling—

“You know, you're lucky I—" Ed turns around, with a pair of pants, and whips his head back as he sees Ling’s towel bunched around his ankles—“you know what, I’ll wait.” He tosses the pants backwards.

"You've been very kind to me, Edward," says Ling, rolling up the sleeves of his borrowed shirt and pushing back his bangs with the base of his palm. Ed recognizes the motion, nervously doing it himself, a tic.

Ed’s shoulders fall, no longer holding his breath as he faces Ling. ”D’you need anything else?"

Ling, clean and clothed, sits down in a chair with more confidence than ever. "I want to talk to you."

“ _Great._ I have a lot to say! " As Ed takes the opposite seat, he gives his anger a voice. ”How about, why didn't you talk to me for two whole years? Why are you showing up in my life _now,_ expecting me to, what, fuckin’ _babysit_ you? I am not someone _known_ for his _abundant patience—_ “

Ling opens and shuts his mouth. His hands are clasped, resting on the table, an annoyingly prim look about him.

“You were my best friend, you know—and I just—I just think that it’s _rude,_ and _disrespectful_ to what we had to pretend you didn’t _break my heart_ —”

“Slow down—“

“I thought you cared about me, but I guess you just needed someone to soak up all your problems, leave me behind when you’re done—do you expect me to clean this mess up for you? Really, went to all the trouble of becoming the emperor and now suddenly you’re too much of an _ass_ to see it through? You’ve gotta see these things _through—_ ”

“Oh my _god,_ shut up!” Ling smacks the table, cutting Ed off his rant. “If you want me to explain myself, then give me a chance to speak.”

Ed’s definitely the ass now, sheepishly resting his hands on his knees. “I was just worried. About you. A lot.”

“I don’t want you to be upset—“

"I'm not _fucking_ upset,” Ed wails, resting his face on the table, tired from his anger. His head throbbed. Ling tentatively reaches out his hand, barely touching Ed’s shoulder.

"I never stopped caring about you. That's why I couldn't keep going." Ed looks up, melodramatic in the way he’s so perfected. "I wrote you letters. Well—I kept starting them. But I didn’t finish any. I wanted to tell you so much, so badly. But I just… couldn’t see you.” Ling is staring downwards, struggling to meet Ed’s eyes. “It would have been a huge mistake, and I didn't want to drag you into my own problems, and _please_ just—“ he inhaled sharply—"hear me out. Please."

“Fine." Ed's voice is hoarse, his face flushed, blotchy. He reaches back to Ling.

"Can I trust you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title, summary from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM8oUoCg56g


	2. someone closer to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and it's harder to be yourself / than it is to be anybody else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Examining My Tenuous Grip On The English Language  
> 

_–_

 

_10 May 1916_

 

_Dear Edward,_

 

_I received your letter a few days ago! I am so happy to hear from you, especially since we didn't get a real chance to say goodbye before I left Amestris. I have officially been appointed successor to the throne. I've been living at the palace since I got back, and Lan Fan is with me. My coronation will be in about a month or so, on my seventeenth birthday. You should come!_

_It's surreal to think that the end is in sight like this. I’m really doubting myself. Even with everything we went through, I still don’t know much about being a leader. I suppose I'll grow into it. I'm certainly not the first emperor to assume the throne so young, and I won't be the last._

_I miss you, Ed. I really do. I know it's hard, but I don't think we will be able to see each other anymore once I'm emperor. I don't think I would have time for any sort of wishful thinking fling_

 

 

 

 

If Ling’s learned anything, it’s that growing up means growing apart. Why? He certainly doesn’t want to. He doesn’t see the need to.

What is so wrong with being a child? Why does our wonder cede to ambition? He doesn’t see why he can’t have it all.

This job, that is, as well as his freedom. His friends. His idle walks with Lan Fan through the city, glazed with tension—they’ve snuck out of the palace, they can’t be caught—that’s what makes it fun. Putting leaves and rocks and dirt into Ed’s sleeping bag, only to have Ed dump the contents onto him. Teasing May in the way only an older sibling can, loving but not without an edge. Talking to Alphonse about Ed behind his back. Seeing Ed’s angry face (read: cute) upon finding out, wailing about how it’s just not _nice_ to make fun of his height anymore. Sitting in some damp grass with Ed, nighttime spring chill at their backs.

He thinks a lot about his friends, and how he’d never had so many before going to Amestris, and how he’s being forced to separate himself from them by time and distance and the mounting demands of his politician’s life.

He thinks it shouldn’t matter. He thinks he can do whatever he wants. Be who he wants, be with whomever he wants, go to the greatest ends to protect what’s important. He knows what’s important to him.

 

 

 

 

_11 June 1916_

 

_Edward—_

 

_Sorry for not returning the correspondence earlier. It's been a busy several weeks for me. Tomorrow is my coronation. I've been living in the palace, to get to know the cabinet and everyone, to learn about some of the jobs I’ll have to do. I was excited for the longest time, but now I'm just terrified. I don't even know what I'm getting myself into and I have no one to talk to about my worries. I miss you so much. I really do. I keep trying to move on, but no one is giving me time to do that because I’m being told I’m of marriageable age and I really ought to be introduced to the nice daughters of some of the noblemen in the city._

_I have to be someone my country can be proud of. I have to make peace between the clans, but that involves some things I'm not really ready to do because I can't see myself with anyone other than you and I am not sure I want lie to myself for the rest of my life?_

_How are you doing, Ed? Has anything happened between you and Winry? Just wondering. If you've moved on, I probably can too._

_It's honestly so lonely. I'm never alone now—there's always at least three people tailing me wherever I go—but I have no friends here. Well, Lan Fan, but all day today I was in meetings and she wasn't allowed in. I worry I won't be able to see her very much anymore._

_I love you, Ed. I miss you so much. I should be happy—I'm where I've always wanted to be, and from where I stand I can protect all these people I care about, but it’s really quite miserable and I have nowhere to hide_

 

 

 

 

Ling discovers he’s misjudged Greed. Your intentions, noble and magnanimous as they are, can’t stand their ground. Infinite selflessness is swallowed by selfishness, even more infinite and small enough to hide inside that dip in your chest, just between your ribcage. It is your heart and love is your curse. Logic steals after its own tail. It cuts swaths through the heart, indiscriminately. It leaves you at the wall, what you want most trapped on the other side.

I don’t know what I want, or if I’m stable, stable enough for everyone else. Is there even one big reason, or is it a collection? It’s all in my head, but does that have to mean it’s fake?

 

 

 

 

_30 July 1916_

 

_Hello Ed!_

 

_It's been a long time since we've talked. The first month or so of my being emperor has been interesting. I've actually spoken with Central a lot over the phone—we're working out the plans for a railroad directly connecting Amestris and Xing. Mostly to ease commerce, but maybe you could come visit sometime? I haven't heard from you in so long. I realize it's taken me a while to write back, and I'm really_

 

 

 

 

It is 1916, and summer is burning and boiling against Ling Yao’s skin. He is seventeen years old and he doesn’t have friends anymore. Equivalent exchange, he figures. Achieve your life goal, only to want to cease living. He sits through strategy meetings and listens to boring old men imploring each other to Consider The Political Implications and bicker over things Ling understands enough, but the words twist his mind into knots. He is asked for approval. He nods blankly back.

 

 

 

 

_4 September 1916_

 

_Dear Ed,_

 

_It's been a long time since I've tried writing to you. I'm a coward. I never send these letters. It helps to write them, though. I feel like I can tell you anything. I wish you were here with me so I actually could. You probably know what's going on with me, mostly, from the news and everything. I was almost assassinated last week, if you haven’t heard. Woke up with a guy standing over me holding a knife. Is it bad that I felt relieved when_

 

 

 

 

Time passes unbearably slowly. Being at the top is unbearably lonely.

He wants to get out of the trap he’s spun himself—the harder he thinks about anything the greater his migraines become. The palace is a cage and he feels like a fucking rat. He wants to think in a place built on something other than his own misery.

There is no other place, though. This is what he has. Isn’t this what he wanted? Isn’t this what you wanted, ingrate? It’s what everyone else wants you to do. It’s what everyone else needs you to do.

It’s just not what you want anymore, is it?

 

 

 

 

_19 November 1916_

 

_Ed,_

 

_I have been trying to write to you less, because the more I think about you, the more I regret leaving you and the part of my life that you inhabited behind and. and I can't take it anymore, I know I just need to get over it._

_I’m actually engaged now. Her clan has historically had a rivalry with mine. My advisors believe that this marriage at this time would soothe relations, a strategic move._

_It's a problem—I feel nothing for her. She’s nice enough, but I feel nothing around her compared to_

_I haven't told anyone this, not even Lan Fan. She's probably figured it out herself anyway, since she's so perceptive, but I can't even do that much. Fuhrer Bradley was indeed a homunculus, but he was human-based, but something about the transmogrification renders one infertile and that’s why his son wasn’t really his son and I’m worried the same thing happened to me even though I still have my duties as not just a statesman, but the Emperor._

_I'm a bad politician, honestly, and negotiations stress me out and I hate having to do everything for strategic reasons, and I’m worried I’m just embarrassing myself and my family by being bad at this_

 

 

 

 

He writes and writes, effusive in his privacy. There are so many words alone, unheard. The stone floor, sturdy as it may be, seems to creak with each passer in the hallway. Every whisper is a bomb. They ring in his ears and render his apprehensive hands useless. A small box waits under his bed, brimming with deepest secrets. Words written in vulnerability torment him in meetings, at meals, with every interaction, every conversation that’s not with him. A phantom pain, a bone once broken that still aches with the rain.

 

 

 

 

_31 December 1916_

 

_Dear Edward,_

 

_It's New Year's Eve. So much has changed in a year. I am thinking about how we spent this day together last year._

 

 

 

 

“A king exists for his people.”

He keeps saying the words to himself, a directive that’s long since lost its meaning. How do you exist for your people, he thinks, if you barely want to be alive at all? I’m selfish. I’m a joke, and everyone else was in on it, and I only just found out, and I thought I was so noble, shouldering others’ burdens, but I am barely eighteen and my back is weak. I think I’m so mature, above it all, but I’m not. Everything I do is for others and it is destroying me. Greed doesn’t die.

He thinks himself a bad man, a selfish one, a horse’s ass. Maybe he’s all three. Can he be blamed?

 

 

 

 

_7 January 1917_

 

_Happy birthday, Ed—_

 

_I promised myself I would stop writing letters to you. This has to be the last one. I have to let you go. But I had to do something for your birthday, milestone eighteenth! I hope you’re having a good day._

_I like all the women I meet. My fiancee is a very nice person but all I really want is to be friends, which I don’t have anymore—Lan Fan is so busy these days, and so am I, so we don’t talk as much. Sometimes I talk to May but she doesn’t live here in the city so it’s not often. I stopped talking to you, which was a mistake._

_I still haven't told anyone any of the things I've told you. My life's this awful, stupid spectacle right now, and I feel so selfish for feeling, since I’m in charge of something greater than myself_

 

 

 

 

The stress, it weighs like lead in his blood. He knows what it feels like, to be poisoned. You can’t shake off what’s destroying you from the inside. He wonders what would happen if he walked away from everything. In sucking the poison out of a wound, there’s always the small, evil chance it’s swallowed again. He leaves and his siblings fight for the throne, and they all kill each other because he couldn’t handle it. Wasn’t good enough, even after his life spent being groomed for the job.

Power itself is vital. It tries to kill you, too. Greed is making him suffer even more now, in its absence. He is left to scrub out its stain forever. A sin is a warning, _caveat emptor._ Is it worth setting yourself up for a trauma that blooms under the skin, that hurts so badly it becomes you?

He folds up the letter he has written, once in half, then to quarters. He makes the paper as small as he possibly can and puts it in the box with the rest, brimming with words, at home under his empty bed.

 

 

 

 

_21 June 1918_

 

_Hey Ed, it's been a while—_

 

_When I decided that I would stop trying to write to you, I gathered all the letters, and I put them into a box, which I hid under my mattress, and I kind of forgot it was there, and a few days ago another attempt on my life was made, and there were bomb threats on the palace too so my rooms were searched by the guards and they happened upon that forgotten box of letters, and it’s been exciting reading them again, but not really at all, and I forgot how cheesy and effusive I was being in some of them. Needless to say, I am embarrassed._

_A group of my advisors and guards are picking through that box right now to check for any lingering threats and of course I know that the letters are of no such nature but what I do figure is that nobody is going to be very happy reading about how our glorious Emperor, praise be, hates his job and is in love with an Amestrian man and might not even be able to have children._

_I am not terrible at my job but I am terrible at being the kind of person who ought to have that job. People have fallen into distaste for much smaller offenses. I contradict everything I am supposed to be. I am not a patriarch. I despise war. I have lived it and I don't ever want to be instrumental in it. I worry I am too weak-willed to stand up for myself or what I believe in. I can't live like that because it’s not fair to my country and it’s not fair to myself and I think I am going to have to make a choice now, someone’s knocking on my door_

 

_–_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more of me clompsing my way through Writing Words. Anyway have a good day u fools  
> 


	3. to know you is to hate you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so loving you must be like suicide / well, i don't mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: STOP USING EM DASHES EVERY OTHER WORD!!!!!!
> 
> evil me: sorry—i—cant—understand—what—youre—saying—?

"Did you ever stop loving me?"

What a loaded question! Not really Ed’s first choice for conversation at the moment—not that he wanted to talk about anything, for that matter. He’s trying to sleep with a certain amount of difficulty—he desperately clings to the edge of the bed with his real leg. Ling is tall and a restless sleeper and takes up space like there’s plenty to go around. In this moment, Ed really regrets not having invested in a couch.

"Not trying to fish for any answer. I really am wondering.” Ling is nothing, if not persistent—no, _annoying._

"Can you please just let me sleep?"

"Sorry." Ling turns onto his back, huffing indignantly. "I just feel so restless. I mean, there's so much going _on_ in my life right now—"

“Great for you.” Ed plants his face downward, a mouthful of pillow dampening the edge in his words.

"I was an emperor days ago, and now I'm absolutely nobody," he muses, "and I'm in bed with you.”

"We haven't done anything—for the love of god, Ling, _shut the fuck up._ " Ed’s entertained by Ling’s overtired rambling, truthfully, but he refuses to let him have that satisfaction.

"Ed, why are you always so rude? You've a lovely personality under all that grumpiness.”

“ _Please_ just stop. Talking. Now.” He looks out the window at the full moon hanging heavy and low, sole witness to this most excruciating reunion. “You're being so embarrassing.”

“Nice to see you being honest about your feelings.” Ling’s words are so cloyingly confident, his demeanor so dissonant from that of the vulnerability he clung to earlier, carefully unfolding his crumpled letters, reading each one to Ed.

Ed flips himself over again, now somewhat facing Ling. Their noses are almost touching. He wishes his bed was just a couple inches wider. 

”Are you making fun of me?"

"No, I just want to talk to you."

 

"We spent hours doing that already, and you, like, basically professed your undying love for me.”

Ling simpers, his cheek pressed into the bedsheet.

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Ed isn’t happy with the flustered energy building at the base of his stomach. “I feel really awkward, you know. Sharing my bed. With you. Asking me if I love you while I’m trying to sleep off my _stressful_ fucking day.” 

“Doesn’t it remind you of how when we were fugitives”—Ling tosses off this detail with an ease only he is capable of—“and we shared a tent, and it was a bigger than average tent but you’d always roll over next to me in your sleeping bag?”

To Ling, Ed’s silence is louder than anything he’s ever said, or screamed, or cried, and the sheer absence of sound is discreetly crushing his skull.

“Or have you forgotten that?”

"Ling. You have to give me a minute, okay? Please let me ease into being your friend again."

Ling falls uncharacteristically silent.

"Ah, shit, Ling. You know what I mean. I mean—I'm just a—"

"Washed-up teenage alchemist—"

"Sure—okay. I'm hiding my ex-boyfriend who also was, until quite recently, _the_ emperor of Xing—I’m hiding him in my shitty apartment indefinitely. That’s a lot of developments for one night.”

They lie in silence for a few moments, falling into the rhythm of each other’s breaths.

“I don’t want to be mad at you, Ling, it’s just—like my anger is plugging up my mind, and nothing else is coming out, and I have to unblock myself of it first so I can feel alright again.”

Ling says nothing.

“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t say goodbye to me. If you knew you couldn’t have me and you were just gonna leave me alone with the misery of wondering.”

“Wondering?”

“If it was real, you know?”

Ling knows.

“It broke my heart, Ling. It fucking crushed me that you never spoke to me again.”

This silence is the worst one yet. What an awkward time to be sharing a bed, Ed thinks.

I really need a couch.

"How long are you planning on staying here?" Ed sits up, trying to deflect. "Like, are you going to go back home after you cool off, or—"

"No, not any time soon. I think I’m supposed to be here now."

“Um—okay. It’s—fine. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

They listen to the sounds of breathing, of the cricket hum clouding the summer air outside. Ling's hand is dangerously close to Ed's—he almost considers squeezing it, knowing the gentle pressure soothes his nerves.

He doesn’t do that.

"Ling, why did you run away?"

"I thought that was obvious?"

"You could've gone anywhere. You didn't even have to leave Xing, but you did, and you came all the way here."

"I wanted to see you.

"Okay, but why just for me? Why throw away your life for me?”

"Edward." Ling's voice is soft, his face kind and sad from Ed’s higher vantage point. “My life should’ve been perfect, but it was miserable. It was missing something important. It was missing friends.” He stops to consider his words. “It was missing you.”

“You’re kidding?"

"Really." Ling smiles, at the edge of a laugh. “Did you ever write me after the first letter you sent?”

"No, I didn't." Ed hugs his knees towards his chest, resting his head there. "I was waiting for you to respond, but you never did.” 

“I’m ashamed of that. It’s all I can say.” Ling’s hushed voice brings such a gravity to the pause that follows it. “Surely you had more things to tell me.”

Conceited bastard, Ling is.

"I dunno. Have I not already said everything?"

"Have you?"

"What are you playing at, Ling?"

"Nothing, Ed. I just think there are things you’re still sitting on. Things that still hurt you. It’s not healthy. I should know.”

"Is that a problem?" Ed’s offended face proves Ling’s point for him, which tickles him.

“It is. You know," Ling sits up beside Ed, shoulders almost touching— “writing is very therapeutic. Getting your thoughts out onto paper, no one has to hear it, but you still feel that sweet relief.”

“I am not writing you a corny fucking love letter right now.”

Ling smiles coyly. “Who said anything about love letters?”

"It's the middle of the night. I want to be asleep.”

“What better time than now! At night, I always feel so meditative. Close to my thoughts. Open to honesty.”

Ed rolls his eyes. He doesn’t care if Ling sees. “Fine. If you _insist,_ o honorable emperor.”

“I’ll go light a candle.”

 

 

 

–

 

 

 

_29 June 1918_

 

_I didn't really have any friends outside of my family when I met you. Winry doesn’t count, she’s basically my sister. I was a really angry kid. I still have problems I'm not dealing with—I should tell you, I have nightmares often, and I think I cry and scream in my sleep so I'm sorry if I ever wake you up. I am so burdened by all the guilt I’ve let accumulate in my chest. It hurts me, but you know that. When we were fugitives (wow, that happened) I woke up a lot in the middle of the night. I was really anxious about a lot of things. It all felt so immediate, like all I knew how to do was scream. Did I wake you up a lot back then? I feel like an asshole._

 

 

 

Ed doesn’t have many words left. They lie beyond some gate, in some arcane place he will never see again. He knows it’s for the best. He became an array. He lost part of himself. There is no comfort left for him in loneliness. Winry is in Rush Valley. She gives people second chances at life. Al is somewhere else, reading and learning and every day reacquainting himself with The Miracle Of Life, how it feels to eat and sleep and feel and be a body. Ed is trapped in Central, where the ground will always be rich with blood. He’s lost without his family. Why are they gone, he thinks? Are they going to come back for him, use all they’ve learned to heal that which is broken inside his own body? He exhales.

 

 

 

_I was so rude to you at first, but you always faced me with kindness, and I'm sure I annoyed you, but you didn't act it at all. Not even Al likes to deal with my sour moods. He just tells me to calm down, take deep breaths and shit. You have always been unconditionally kind to me, and you never give up on your compassion, no matter how badly it backfires on you. I respect that so much. One of the first things about you I knew I loved, I guess. You became a homunculus because you knew it'd save people's lives—you needed to become emperor, save more lives and stop a nation’s worth of petty conflict. You went to all that trouble to get the stone, and yet you were ready to give it up in an instant so I could bring Al back. Who does that? You hated being emperor, but you—lied yourself into complacency, because you felt bad for the people you'd let down otherwise. You destroy yourself to make other people happy. I guess you are pretty greedy, but for the right reasons. Whatever that means. If only you knew how to really be selfish. Ditching your job’s a good start (too soon?)._

 

_It didn’t take me very long to realize I had feelings for you. Well, I don't think I knew immediately that's what they were. I honestly hadn’t thought much of the possibility—two guys, that is. I thought I'd know what love felt like once I met the right girl, but I think I felt it for real the first time in Gluttony’s stomach. I had to carry you through that fucking lake of blood because you refused to get up. Your face was so sad and stupid and it made my chest ache in a very confusing way. I can’t believe I’m writing all this sappy bullshit._

 

 

 

His face is stuck to his arm with sweat. He wants to lean against his window in the daytime, to go outside and feel bright heat, but it’s dark out, and cool, and he couldn’t bring himself to get up anyway. He should be happy. Why can’t he make himself be happy? Fuck, he wants to be happy but there’s no one around to lead him there.

 

 

 

_It was so strange to finally kiss you. I wasn't crazy for liking you. My whole life has been a series of me making mistakes and being wrong, and I fuck up everyone else's lives along with my own, and every time I've been on the verge of some great discovery it just blows up in my face. You felt right, though. I finally felt like I had an instinct I could trust._

 

 

Well, not as of late, he supposes.

 

 

 

_I guess that's why I was so angry when you left as soon as the battle was over. The dust hadn't even settled when you took off. We said goodbye, but we didn't get any closure. I was ready to tell you I loved you. I don't think it was just the hyperbolic teenage part of my brain, either. Then I didn't hear from you for two years. I think I was justified in my anger. I'm still a little angry. I understand where you’re coming from. I’m angry, but it won’t do me any good to shut you out, will it? It’s like when I first met you—I was under the illusion you were my enemy, and I was sorely mistaken._

 

 

 

Growing up has meant growing apart from everyone he loves. He is mired in stagnant anger. He wants to feel love.

 

 

 

_You’re right—it is a relief to write all this out, before it burns a hole clean through my heart, or something. Wish I’d known that before, for every bad thing that happened to me as a kid. I don’t want to dwell on those things right now, though. I feel more at peace than anything._

 

_Thanks._

 

 

 

_–_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title/desc from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66Y6ap6nWzM


	4. can anybody find me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i just gotta get out of this prison cell / one day i'm gonna be free

"Is everything alright, Edward? You haven't returned any calls for days."

"Yeah, Hawkeye. It's fine, I've just been—preoccupied?" Ed twirls the telephone cord around his finger, trying to calm down. His heartbeat’s a thumping bassline.

Riza’s voice is something serious; Ed knows that, were they face to face, she would stare him down until he broke. “You need to tell me what’s going on with you.”

"Well—" He turns to see Ling sitting at the work table, poring diligently over Ed’s sketches of circles. “Ling is in my apartment with me. Right now.”

“Yao? The prince?”

“Do we _know_ any other Lings?”

“Edward, be serious.” Ed imagines the Lieutenant rolling her eyes, trying to meter her words. “I shouldn’t have to tell you he’s been the center of one of the biggest news stories in recent memory, Amestris _and_ Xing.”

“Yeah, he's sitting, like, ten feet away from me. In my kitchen.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? You _know_ I can help you.”

"He's being an asshole, _refuses_ to go outside—"

"Hey!" Ling looks up, equally annoyed and amused. "I don't want any attention.”

Ed clutches the receiver to his chest. “You _always_ want attention. Bastard.”

“Hi, Ling,” drawls a deadpan Riza, voice tinny through the phone. “You know, hiding forever isn’t going to solve your problems. You need to go back home.”

Ed thanks his lucky stars, for Ling’s sake and his own, that Hawkeye is not one to overdramatize, hyperbolize, or snap. She speaks as dutifully as ever, temper nowhere to be seen.

"Neither of you are doing anything to _actually_ make me feel better.” Ling is now at Ed's side, facilitating his yelling into the receiver. "I don't know what people know, and I honestly don't care, because I was just—humiliated in front of the whole world, so it's going to be awful seeing anyone anyway, and—"

“How about you both come to my apartment? You really should go outside, talk to someone other than each other and try to determine _some_ sort of game plan.”

“With all due respect, Lieutenant, I wasn’t finished speaking.”

Ed turns away from an indignant Ling, trying his best to shout over him. “What a _great_ idea! We’ll be _right_ over.”

Ling does not look pleased.

Through the phone, they catch a rare laugh from Hawkeye, and a “see you soon.”

 

–

 

"You know, Edward, I'd always thought you had a thing for Winry."

Ed has lived this moment before—he, distressed, coming to the Lieutenant for support, sat at her kitchen table, being accused of something ridiculous—

"She's like my sister, when's everyone going to shut up about that? We never—we were never—"

Ling snickers into his cup of tea. Hawkeye wryly smiles at Ed. "I'm just teasing, Edward.” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears. She turns to Ling. “Is that the whole story?”

“I guess. I think that's everything I need to say." Ling is surprisingly relaxed, having just recounted all that he did. “You—you won’t tell anyone, right?”

"No, I won't. I know how big a risk it is, letting people know your personal business.” She is nothing but serious now. “You know. From personal experience."

“Wait—you’re—you too?“ Ed rises to attention in his chair. "I don't think I've ever met—well, Garfiel, I guess—an adult who'd made it to—"

"Wow! We always used to joke about how you and Mustang were secretly fucking, right, Ed?” 

Ed claps his hand onto Ling's shoulder, perhaps too forcefully, but it succeeds in getting him to shut up.

Hawkeye is gracious and forgiving, brushing Ling off with a laugh. “It’s fine. We’ve gotten that before, but it’s just untrue. I like women, and he likes men.”

“ _Mustang_ is _gay?_ Of _all the fucking people_ in the world?” 

Truth, Ed remembers, is often stranger than fiction.

"—yes, Ed—but everyone thinks we're a couple. I suppose it works out. Honestly, it would damage both our reputations less if we were breaking the anti-fraternization codes.” She pauses. “Mustang always had a thing for Maes, you know.”

“Hughes? But he’s so…” Ed gesticulates, trying to find the right words.

“Heterosexual?” Ling offers.

“Yeah. That.”

“It didn’t work out for Roy. Mustang. The Colonel.” 

Her eyes betray the barest bit of sadness. She is a master of the poker face, and every shift in her expression is wholly intentional. 

"In the military, it's actually pretty common for two men or two women to have relationships, but no one talks about it—people justify it later on by claiming to have been experimenting, or going through a phase, or that they knew it wasn't viable, so they'd just give up on it. My—ex-girlfriend—did either of you ever meet Second Lieutenant Catalina?—" Riza is met with a shrug— "well, that's what happened with us. She overcompensated. Spent so much time falsely obsessing over men, so no one would be suspicious—I understood—but eventually she told me she didn't want to sneak around anymore. She broke up with me.”

"Shit. I'm sorry, Hawkeye.” Truth is grim. Thick smoke choking him inside out.

"It's alright. It was a couple years ago." The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, which Riza fights against. "Those who stay true to—well, I'm afraid it's often a choice between an unhappy marriage or a lifetime of loneliness. General Armstrong once told me—"

“Her too? Seriously?” Ed leans over the table, knocking his cup over. "Is everyone gay now?" He asks the question in total earnest. Poor Ed, they think, so one-minded he doesn’t have a social life at all.

Ling wheezes into his tea.

"Well, Ed, it's not a matter of everyone 'becoming' a certain way—it's more the fact that we've been forced into secrecy. We're here, and we always have been, but we seem so marginal because few people are public about it."

Ling calms himself. "Thanks, Riza. It means a lot hearing that from you."

"It's never great, but I've found it easier as I've gotten older," she apologizes. "There are some places that are more accepting—Rush Valley is certainly a safe haven for us. You could absolutely be a happy couple, living out there."

At the implication that they’re a couple, both Ed and Ling laugh awkwardly, glancing at each other from the corners of their eyes.

“Of course, Ling, if this is really the decision you want to make, you have to make things right back home first. With your family.”

Ling looks about as comfortable as someone who’s just swallowed a bee.

“It’s going to be difficult, I know.”

“We’re not dating,” blurts Ling. “Um, I just, uh, wanted to clear that up. So we’re clear.” He gives Ed a very confusing glance, obviously trying to communicate _something_ to him, god knows what.

“Oh. Sorry. I just assumed.”

Ed speaks through the grimace that has, of _course,_ taken over his face. "Well—thank you, Hawkeye—so much—for, uh, talking to us, and for your—discretion.” God, is he clumsy. 

Ling shoots out of his chair. ”I think we should get going? Yeah. I think we should leave.”

"Okay, Edward—and it was nice to see you, Ling. I’m at your service. See you soon." The Lieutenant narrows her eyes as the pair shuffles out the front door, eager yet contained, about to burst.

In the hallway outside the apartment, Ed stops Ling, reaching for his shoulder. The bastard’s still taller, enough so that his chin could rest perfectly atop Ed’s head.

"Hey, Ling?” He doesn’t want to make it awkward. It’s already beyond that between them, but he can’t bear to make it worse. He reminds himself of this, and yet he cannot stop himself from moving forward, trusting the sharp impulse pushing out of his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Y'know how she thought we were a couple?”

Ling grins sheepishly. "Yeah—I'm sorry about that, I know it was weird. I really want to... uh, respect your boundaries, and you said you weren't ready for that, you just want to work on our friendship, so I'm not going to force you into anything you don’t want to do, I’m just happy to be here.” He knits his eyebrows into something quizzical. “It’s happy. I’m happy.”

Neither of them are quite sure what’s going on as it hits them both. Nudges them.

Ed grabs Ling's face and brings it towards his own—this causes Ling to stumble, for once his height becomes his enemy—and kisses him. He leans onto his toes to meet Ling, who bends down slightly in reply. It’s just lips, soft-spoken, until it deepens, both of them easing in and getting over the initial shock. Just for a moment, there is no past, no record of anything between them. There is no future, no impending, life-changing choices to be made. No burdens, just Ed and Ling, in the same place, of the same mind. Ed’s hands cupping Ling’s jaw. Ling’s arms beginning to wrap around him, regretting ever having let go in the first place.

The opening of a door pierces the lush silence. They jump apart, stumbling a bit at the suddenness of it all. Riza’s stepped out, apparently on her way to take out the trash. She smiles knowingly at them and walks away.

Ed and Ling look at each other, clearly both surprised by each other, so much so that they can’t articulate it—but it’s fine. The moment has passed, and Ed brushes his fingers against Ling's palm, still hovering above his own hips. They hold hands as they descend the stairs. 

They reach the street, and their hands break apart, almost instinctually.

The sun is brighter, harsher than they remembered it being earlier.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone whos said nice things about this fic! i have a love-hate relationship w/ writing dialogue so this was an adventure. anyway have fun, i hope u enjoy!  
> title/desc from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YVsEpRxrVKU


	5. you've got to be forgiving in a world like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well, everyone learns to live with themselves / and you're not the only one who's been through hell

The morning rolls on, and the sun brushes the rooftops of the city, its light peeking through half-opened windows—Ling, desperately trying to sleep a few minutes more, has the blanket over his face; Ed, already restless, untangles himself from Ling and rises. He’d go make a coffee for himself, and something for Ling, too—of course he still remembers the way he takes his tea. After heating the water, he turns on the radio.

_"—bringing you the latest stories, every hour on the hour. Live from Central, this is reporter Kain Fuery. It's 11:00 AM. We have an update on the Xingese emperor crisis—“_

"Ugh, Ed, can you turn that off?" Ling shouts from the bedroom, apparently emerging from under the covers. “I really don’t want to think about _that_ right now.”

"You can't avoid it forever, dumbass." Even when he speaks in his most biting tones, the affection in Ed’s voice is tangible.

"—temporarily placed in the position, but because no successor has been named by Emperor Ling Yao, several other princes and princesses are attempting to claim their right to the th—"

"You're kidding." Ling pads out into the kitchen, the floorboards creaking slightly under his step. His hair sticks up at the crown of his head, his face marred by a foul expression. "Can't they just pick someone?"

"Well," says Ed, handing him a mug of tea, "I don't think anyone was expecting the cool, new, young emperor to just—hightail it."

"Well, that's their problem, then."

"It's really not, though. You probably should have said something, before, you know, fleeing the country for personal reasons you refused to disclose to anyone.”

"Hey." Ling turns grave, all of a sudden. "Is there a problem with my choices? You seem to be doing pretty well with them.”

"Come on, stupid." Ed brushes Ling's bangs to the side—he’d let them get too long, and they fall in front of most of his face now, which Ed finds such a shame—"Of course I'm happy you're here, and that you're doing better. I just think, well—leaving Xing, leaving the throne behind—it’s a big deal. You can't just disappear forever, full radio silence.”

"I can if I want to.”

"You know what I mean. You don't think you should make some sort of public statement? I know you've been ignoring the news as much as possible, but you should know that what you did, and what's happening in Xing now—it's a big deal." A pause. "You owe them that much, I think."

"Do I really, though?" Ling turns around, staring at Ed right in between his eyes.

“Well, yeah. You did what you needed to do for—for your health, and I'm glad you did, because you needed to, but you can't just run away from all your problems and expect them to work themselves out. There’s a limit to how much recklessness is good for you.”

“Rich, coming from the guy who burned his own house down rather than fix his problems.”

"Seriously, Ling? You _know_ this is completely different.”

A painful silence settles between them. Ling stares at his toes, drumming the floor with them gently, fidgeting as he tries to think.

"Sorry."

Ed slings his arm around Ling's shoulder, pulling him closer. Ling stops paying attention to his tea, and a bit splashes onto his hand. He laughs. 

"Don't worry about it. I've learned—kind of—how to deal with it. I just don't want you to live with regrets for the rest of your life. It’s so much worse than what you’re feeling now, I swear.” He trails off, lazily planting a kiss to Ling's cheek. "You planning on anything today? I hope you come with me, or at least get outside for once."

"Dunno." He reaches for Ed’s hand and squeezes.

"I'm going to see Al today. He's going to South City, but the trains don't run all the way there from Resembool, so he's connecting here. You could come, if you want."

"Don't you see him a lot? I could just come the next time."

Ed hesitates. "I actually—we don't talk very often these days.”

“Okay, that’s weird. Really weird, Ed. What’s wrong?”

"I don't want to burden him with anything." Ed's voice is suddenly shades darker. "I mean, I got his body back, and I know that means the world, but he still had to put up with me for his entire life before that. I worry that he still blames me for what happened to him—I have for nearly ten years now, which is _crazy_ —and whenever I see him, I just think of all the times I was an asshole to him, even though he's always the one who approaches me! I mean, he's my little brother—I put him through a lot, and I know I can look back on my time growing up with him, and see that, and know I've changed, but have I really?" He’s no longer talking to Ling, his words diverted inwards. "I don't know. I have so many bullshit problems, because I don't really know how to be totally honest—I just don't want him to have to put up with that."

Ling doesn’t know how to respond.

"Sorry." Ed laughs, weird and sarcastic as always. "I should've written that one down, instead of dumping it on you.”

"It's okay." Ling drags Ed with him to the counter, setting his cup down. “Hey, let's get dressed. I'll go with you." He kisses Ed, who tastes the lukewarm tea on his lips.

 

–

 

"Ling?"

"Al—shut up! Don't draw attention to us," Ed warns, leaning across the table he and Ling now accompany him at, in a small café near the center of the city. Al is energetic, with his boyish haircut and slightly crooked bow tie.

"I mean, it’s. Fine?" Ling smiles apologetically. "My hair's down, I know people aren't used to seeing me like that.”

"Why are you here?" Al’s markedly surprised for someone whose life has been, more or less, a horror story. "You know, I was in Xing last week, and everyone's freaking out. Pretty much every clan's claiming they have the right to the throne, and some people think—" he leans in— "a civil war is on the horizon."

Ling makes an uncomfortable noise, akin to the sound of a slowly deflating balloon. 

"Well, Al—how are you doing?" Ed feels the awkwardness too, and tries his best to deflect.

"The same, I guess. That doesn't matter, though. Ling—what happened?" He is nothing if not persistent.

”It's okay, I can—I'll tell you. I—" He quickly falls silent, trying to shield his face as someone passes right behind him. "Okay, anyway—there was just a lot of pressure on me, naturally, and I realized I was too, uh, young? To do any good for the—anyone, and it was taking a toll on me, so I decided to step down.:

"Yeah, but there’ve been emperors your age before? You probably would've gotten better with more experience.”

"He's going through a lot right now, ease up, eh?"

"Yeah, you're right." Al leans back. "Wait, just one more thing. Why would you come here? Is it really that fun staying with Ed? His hygiene is terrible. He needs to take better care of his body.”

“Drop it, turd. He doesn’t have to talk about anything he doesn’t want to.”

Ling meekly sips his water.

"It's just weird, alright? You haven't talked in ages, and now he’s living with you.”

"You know what?" Ed stage-whispers. “He’s my boyfriend. That enough of an answer for you?"

Al is still puzzled. "Yeah, I know you're friends. I'm friends with Ling, too. Why so touchy?”

Ling begins to choke on an ice cube and spits it out, interrupting Al's question. He loves Alphonse—great guy, big heart, talented—but for a moment, he understands Ed's reasons for minimizing conversation with his brother.

Ed still exudes frustration, as he is wont to do whenever he feels a step ahead of whatever poor person’s having a conversation. “We have a relationship."

“Yeah, friendships are relationships?”

“Al, I’m in _love_ ” (he chokes the word out) “with him. Romantic.”

"Oh, well, why didn't you just say so?" Ed and Ling, whose hand has made a new home on his forehead, exchange an exasperated look as Al speaks. “Wait, how does it work with two guys?”

"Oh my _god._ ” Ling slaps his hands on the table with enough force to rattle the glasses and silverware. A few heads turn, to whom he stares daggers.

”It's totally fine, don't worry," Al presses, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, I love Ed. He’s my brother, and I’d do anything for him. Don’t worry.” He stops, a pensive moment. “Ling, is this why you ran away?”

"I really don't want to talk about it with—here—I don't want people to hear me and know. I don’t want anyone to know. We have to stop.”

More people are fixated on the trio’s brawl as their voices escalate. A few heads are cocked in recognition. Ed decides to stare at the ceiling.

"Sorry, I'll stop.”

"I'm just—I'm going to leave." Ling gets up and makes for the door, pretending no one can see him.

“Shit, I don’t feel great about that. Is he going to be okay?”

"I don't know." Stress burns at the pit of Ed's stomach, ulcerous and familiar. "I'm going to talk to him." He follows Ling, whose arms are knit tightly together, onto the street.

"What was that?"

"I can't _stand_ being around people right now!" Ling's fury is rare, quiet as it terrifies Ed. 

He curses in Xingese. "I didn't want to be the emperor, so I gave it up, right? I want to be done now. Seriously. Every time I hear about whatever the hell's going on back there, I'm just—taken back to how miserable I was being in charge—I can't do anything to help those people! I can't start now. I don't want to talk about it!”

"You know that's just—irresponsible, right? Ling—god, you've got to stop thinking so little of yourself—"

"What do you think I should do, then?"

"—you can't just ignore the mess you left behind. I want you to be happy, but you're never going to be if you just lock yourself in my apartment for the rest of your life.”

"You don't even talk to your brother anymore, 'cause you're too scared he'll hate you—don't lecture me about running away from my problems.”

"How is that the same thing _at all?_ You were the emperor of the _whole fuckin' country_ and now everyone wants to kill each other over—"

"I'm not responsible for that! I don't want to be—"

"But you are! You need to step up, just one more time—"

"—and you don't understand, I'm ashamed of myself and the whole world probably is too, so I'm sorry if I'm not too keen on the idea of going—"

"Ling, you _know_ I understand, and I've stayed with you for the past couple of weeks because I know you need help, but I can't—can't _babysit_ you forever—"

"Sorry I'm such a nuisance, then—"

"You know that’s not what I meant to say at all, you _have_ to stop jumping to the worst possible conclusions! I just think that—I think you're being delusional about the whole situation—it's like you don't realize that your actions have consequences, or that maybe you're not the only person in the world—"

"I know! I know, Ed—listen, I still have nightmares about finding Lan Fan in the fucking sewer, bleeding out, and I remember why I did everything I did and it makes me feel so much worse because it’s clear to me now that it was all talk—"

"Fuck, maybe it was a good idea for us not to be on speaking terms, you’re _ridiculous!_ I can’t—"

"Are you serious?"

The stare they exchange is prolonged and uncomfortable and full of vitriol. Ed hears his heartbeat in his head.

"Ling—I'm—"

"I'm sorry, Ed. I’m going to cool off."

Ling sprints down the street, making a turn at some corner Ed can’t quite discern. He is left to stew in the remains of their explosion.

_Sorry, Al._

Without a clue as to where Ling might be headed, he begins to walk home, hands balled in his pockets, trying not to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drama. suspense, Intrigue. not really! i feel like it would be unrealistic to have ed and ling's Real Adult Relationship get off to a perfect start, they def broke up over something petty AT LEAST once. dont worry everything will be fine lol, they are but foolish boys who do not know how to be open about their feelings. hope u are all still enjoying. thanks for saying nice things!  
> title/desc from unforgiving girl (she's not an) by car seat headrest!


	6. it bears repeating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she turns and says "are you alright?" / i said "i must be fine 'cause my heart's still beating"

Content Pending ;-3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title/desc from fell in love with a girl by the white stripes yuhhh


	7. i fell in love once and almost completely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she turns and says "are you alright?" / i said "i must be fine 'cause my heart's still beating"

"Ah, fuck! Can't you warn me before you do that?"

"No, Ed, because every time I tell you I'm about to connect the nerves you just—jerk your leg away from me and it messes up the whole thing!"

Wiry jokingly punched Ed in the knee, but recoiled quickly—the heat of midday in Rush Valley made it hot to the touch.

"Well, are you done now?"

"Ed, I've been fixing up your leg since we were 11. I think you should know by now that I'm not done yet."

Ed tried to sit through the reattachment of his leg, scanning the walls of Winry's workroom and clutching a sheet to distract himself. It was always the worst part of visiting her for tune-ups. Winry finally finished, towelling oil from her hands and taking a sip of water.

"How come you're so quiet? I know you, Ed. Usually, you're a lot louder and more obnoxious—"

"Nothing. Normal day. Normal week! Very normal month."

Winry narrowed her eyes. "Okay, so clearly something happened. What?"

Ed screamed with his mouth shut—it was muffled by his shirt, which covered his face, since he was taking it off. The sweltering heat of the south was always a bit much for him, and Winry didn't care.

"Come on, Ed." She sat down next to him on the bed where she conducted her operations. "I keep all your secrets. What's one more?"

A series of moments ran through his mind—Winry holding his forced-open pocketwatch, Winry ducking behind him as he blocked her finger, about to pull a trigger, Hawkeye making an offhand comment about moving to Rush Valley—"

"I'm having... relationship problems."

Winry threw back her head in laughter, nearly screaming—not the reaction Ed was expecting.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Ed, that's so funny—you _actually_ got a girlfriend, looking the way you do—"

"What, is there a _problem_ with the way I dress? I think I look—"

"Stupid! So's your hair. Oh, poor girl who's dating _Edward Elric,_ she has to put up with her boyfriend's ugly—"

"It's not a girl." Ed sounded terse, anxious. "It's actually... Ling."

Winry's breathing slowed, and she swiped a piece of hair from her face. "Oh, that makes _so_ much more sense. Dammit, now I owe Garfiel 200 cenz."

"What?"

"We had a bet a while back that the two of you would end up a couple. I said it wouldn't happen, 'cause it's so unlike you to be upfront about your feelings, so you'd _probably_ be alone foreve—"

"Hey!" Ed struggled not to look embarrassed. "It doesn't bother you that I'm—I was with another guy?"

"Oh, god no. That would make me a hypocrite, and I definitely wouldn't've worked with Garfiel, either, if—"

"Wait, you like girls?"

"Ah, yeah. Figured I should tell you sooner or later." Winry smiled at him, in that empathetic way no one else could quite match. "You know, I used to think I had a crush on you. Glad I grew out of that."

_"Thanks."_

"It's not you, Ed—I mean, I've always cared about you, and I guess at one point it made me think I ought to be in _love_ with you, or something, since—you know, I was a girl, and you were a boy, and all... Was around the time I came here I realized I was wrong."

"When you put it that way, I think I felt the same for a while—definitely over it now, too." Ed laughed—he wanted so badly to cut through the awkwardness.

"Ling?"

Ed nodded to confirm. "Paninya?"

Winry smiled sheepishly. "Was it that obvious?"

"I mean, when we met her, you fawned over her the whole time. Seemed a little deeper than wanting to look at her automail."

"You got me there." Winry spacily gazed out the window. "We got really close after you left, actually—and there was this one night where we climbed a roof, and we were looking for constellations—it's nice, you can see them so clearly here, just like home—and then she held my hand, and looked at me, and we—um, yeah."

"That still going on?"

Winry turned furiously red. "It's... complicated. It's, like, an on-and-off thing—"

"Are you on or off right now?"

"Quit deflecting, Ed!" She shoved him over. "What happened with Ling? Where the hell did he even go? Did he just, like, climb through your window one day, like, 'Oh, Ed, I just quit my life and I'm in love with you now?—"

"That's basically what happened."

"That's so weird. He gives up the throne, runs away from home and leaves everything a disaster, and then of all people he goes to see you?"

Ed was the one blushing now. "We have a history."

Winry was fascinated—she'd fallen into one of her moods on intense focus, and wanted to question him relentlessly. "Where is he now? Is he going back to Xing? You've heard what's going on there, isn't it crazy? And _so_ unlike him to just... give up, y'know?"

"That's actually why we fought." Ed picked up his legs and drew his knees to his chest. "I told him he can't be that irresponsible and... he got mad, I guess? I have no idea where he went. He literally ran off."

"He's so melodramatic. I guess only you could put up with someone like that." Winry smirked.

" _Ha ha._ But yeah, I mean—I worry I was mean to him—like, too mean—"

Ed was cut off by the tinkling of a bell and footsteps from the front of the shop.

"Shit, someone's here—for a consultation or something—we'll talk more later!" Winry slapped Ed on the back as she ran to the door.

Now alone in the workroom, Ed looked around for something to do. He noticed a radio, sitting on a bench against the wall, and turned it on.

_"—and it's currently 2:30 PM here in South City. We have a story coming to us from Central. Fuhrer Grunman has just spoken to the newly-appointed Emperor of Xing, eighth princess—"_

"The fuck?" Ed hastily twisted the volume dial.

_"—at the recommendation of previous emperor, twelfth prince Ling Yao, who, yesterday evening, made this statement at the palace before an audience of cabinet members—"_

"He _what?_ "

_"—loyalty to and love for my country remain a part of me—"_ Ling's voice!— _"and it is with—utmost gravity that I apologize to you for my actions—"_ a heckler screamed something of a question at him— _"I'm not the... right person to lead this country to a place of stability and peace—"_

The recording of Ling stopped. _"Grunman is expected to make a visit to the Imperial City sometime in the next month to discuss—"_

Ed shut the radio off.

_Thank god he's not dead._

Stubborn as he was, he couldn't ignore the ache of longing that had confronted him when he heard Ling in the tinny recording.

He needed to see him again. But where? How? He had no idea how to get in contact with him again, unless—

He had a long trip ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooh finally got to update! i just started spring break so i'm hoping to finish it soon :-) anyway have fun yall  
> title/desc from fell in love with a girl by the white stripes


	8. i wanna be the villain (i have not yet tried)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the day always puts on a loving smile / the night just wants to be cruel

"Fullmetal, you're really testing my patience."

"Don't _call_ me that," huffed Ed, indignant. "I just want to know wen we're going to visit the... um, palace?"

_"Edward,_ we're barely in the city. It was very generous to even let you come on this trip—this is official political business, and here you are, _ex-_ soldier, tagging along." Mustang wiped sweat from his forehead. His bangs were slicked back, nothing for him to hide behind. "Damn, it's hot in here. Can someone open a window?"

About a week earlier, it was planned for Grunman to make the trip over to Xing. He was to bring with him the other ministers of foreign policy, including the newly-appointed General Mustang.

Incidentally, Ed, who _just_ so happened to know Mustang, wanted to make his own trip to Xing—how convenient it would be to glom himself onto the Amestrian party about to disembark!

Roy wasn't pleased to find Ed waiting in his office one afternoon—it only happened when he wanted something from him. It was an odd request Ed made, but what the hell.

This is how Ed, Mustang, and Hawkeye ended up together in a sweaty car bound for the Xingese capital, another soldier driving them. By automobile, the trek across the desert was reduced to only a few days, maybe a week—they had needed to stop in sleepy desert villages to rest and refuel.

It was still a pretty unpleasant drive.

"If it helps, Edward, Grunman and the other military personnel will be staying at the palace, so I believe we're going there first thing." Hawkeye was soft, a necessary counter to the pettiness Ed and Roy brought out in each other. "You'll have to make your own arrangements for a place to stay, though. You—you weren't expected, and it's only soldiers who—"

"Yeah, whatever. I just needed a ride." Ed tried his usual nonchalance, but he couldn't quell the uncertainty at the pit of his stomach—such a big city! Where would Ling even be? Would Ling even be here at all? Was the whole crossing the desert thing a mistake?

Well, it's too late for regrets.

Ed leaned into the window, and his rash decisions, letting himself be rattled with every bump the car ran over.

–

At the palace, they were received in a courtyard outside a grand hall. Ed was still trailing behind Hawkeye, but he was quite out of place—Grunman, Mustang, and a couple other officials he vaguely recognized were greeting a group of palace ambassadors.

"I shouldn't be here," Ed said, to no one in particular.

"Yes, Edward—if you turn around, I'm sure the guards will lead you ou—"

Ed stopped listening to Hawkeye, because a tap on his shoulder distracted him.

"Edward?"

"Holy shit!" Ed turned around to face none other than Lan Fan, clad in black. He'd gone two years without speaking to Ling. With her, it had certainly been longer. "When did you get here?"

"When did _you_ get here?"

"Touché."

The two teenagers had become separated from the larger group of adults, who were proceeding into the main hall.

Late summer was good to this part of Xing. The dryness of age had not quite touched the flowers and trees, which carried about them a certain gentleness, frozen in time.

Ed felt more than awkward.

"So... how are you, Lan Fan? Long time no see—"

"You're here to see Ling."

"Well, don't just _jump_ to conclusions—I'm happy to see you—"

To his surprise, Lan Fan laughed indulgently. "It's fine. I know everything. I figured you'd show up."

"What do you mean, everything—"

Lan Fan put her hand on Ed's shoulder and led him to a shady corner of the garden. "Well, you're in love with him, no?"

"That's a— _strong_ word."

"Is it not the right word?"

Ed stared at his feet. "It's—it's the right one." 

"I think he'd say the same."

A beat passed.

"Does he—would he even want to talk to me?" Ed tucked his bangs behind his ears. "I was kind of an asshole to him the last time I saw him. I wasn't thinking... I guess I wasn't thinking about the pressure he's under. I shouldn't've snapped, made him feel like a burden—"

"You know, outside of the palace, and politicians, and all—the rest of the country didn't know how much he actually hated being emperor. They just wanted some sort of answer, or closure."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"He would've come back at some point, anyway. You can't hide from this forever. You can't blame yourself for everything."

"I stil wish I'd been kinder, y'know? I mean, since we've known each other, he's been through some ridiculous shit—"

"I think he'd understand you just want the best for him. You came all the way here to see him, so that _must_ mean something."

She smiled at him.

"Where is he now?"

"The last time I saw him was a few days ago, when he left the palace. For good. He told me he didn't have it in him to really go anywhere, though, not even home. He's just tired. He's in a hotel now. In the city."

"What?"

"I mean, he _is_ the prince of the Yao clan, he's weirdly loaded—usually has plenty of cash on him, so I imagine he'll stay there until he runs out of money."

Ed grumbled something to himself about unpaid room service bills.

"I can write down the name of the hotel, if you want to try and find him."

"Yeah, that'd—that'd be good." Ed produced a pen from his coat pocket. Lan Fan took it, grabbed his hand, and wrote a name in Xingese— _Capital Hotel._ What felt like ages ago, Ling had taught Ed the simplest of the language—he didn't want to lose it while he was away.

"You can take care from here?"

"Yeah." Ed put his hands in his pockets, resigned. "Thanks, Lan Fan. For everything."  
She only nodded before quickly disappearing.

–

He'd gotten lost at least twice, but Ed had finally made it to the hotel. By now, it was evening, and dimmed lights hung over a lobby decorated with plush chairs and fresh paint on the walls. He approached the front desk, anxiety growing with each step.

"I'm—um... here to visit someone?"

The man at the desk looked up. "What's the guest's room number?"

"I don't actually know."

"Guest name?"

"Ling Yao."

The concierge shot him a faux-impressed look as he flipped through the guest log and picked up the phone. Ed felt the dial tone in his chest.

"What's your name?"

Ed hesitated. "Eh... Roy Mustang?" Fuck. That was stupid.

The concierge told this to whoever was waiting on the other end of the call—Ling, he assumed—and hung up after a moment. "Okay, you're looking for room 307."

"Thank you. So much." Propelled by a general embarrassment, Ed made for the elevator.

He wasn't exactly sure _why_ he was so nervous, coming upon the third floor and finding the room marked 307. He didn't even know what he was going to say.

The last time they'd spoken, it ended in a fight.

Whatever.

He formed some sort of brave face to knock on the door, three raps in quick succession. His hands hid in his pockets, not really knowing where else to go.

Ling answered the door, looking a bit dumbfounded. "The hell? You're not Mustang, why did you say you were—"

He was cut off by Ed's arms, newly wrapped around him. No kiss, no words—Ed just couldn't believe Ling was really there, standing before him.

"Ed?"

"Are you okay? Ling?" Ed's face was buried into his chest, muffling his words. "I'm—I'm really sorry. About everything."

"I've been better. Um..." Ling sounded as though he intended to keep speaking, but instead, his arms found their way through the confusion and returned the embrace.

It was a safe feeling. They both wanted to curl up in it for as long as they could.

The sound of footsteps down the hall broke Ling from whatever trance he was in, and he yanked Ed into the room and shut the door. They now stood apart, staring at each other, both waiting for the right words to bubble up.

"Can we talk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy i guess? Maybe my words make sense. am making progress, would say this is about 65/70% done? i'm just glad to have my hc written out. again, thanks for all the nice comments and kudos!  
> chapter title/desc from i wanna be cruel by matt jaffe and the distractions (a lingy song)


	9. i root for you, i love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you didn't see my valentine / i sent it via pantomime

"Why'd you have to ask?"

Ed had stepped into a thoroughly awkward situation.

He had settled in a chair, a bit boxy and improperly varnished, making it look older than it likely was. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands—he opposed a neat-looking bed, made, but seemingly in a rush, upon which Ling was seated, fidgeting with his hands. His hair wasn't in its usual ponytail, and it hung at the sides of his face. 

Ed noticed it framed his features quite well. He reminded himself to tell Ling that later.

They were both pointedly avoiding each other's gazes, pretending to look at something more interesting beneath their feet. Ling's eyes parceled out each thread of the carpet. Ed's scanned the scuff marks on his boots.

The lights were too dim, and it had the appearance of not having been cleaned in a few days, but Ed decided it was a nice room. The walls were an olive green—wouldn't have been his first choice, since he felt guarded by his own boldness, but it was soothing. It was a nice room. It's a nice color. It's—

"Ed?" Ling's voice was unusually hollow.

"Yeah? Sorry. I got... distracted. What's up?"

"I asked you something."

"Oh. Yeah. Um, I... I don't know." He looked out the window to see the sky had already gone to bed in violet. "It's good to see you, Ling." Another heavy pause.

"Glad to see you too, Ed."

They carried on like this for far too long, ducking away from actually speaking to each other. Neither one of them wanted to break the silence.

"Lan Fan told me where to find you. I—I just really, I wanted to apologize—"

_"Thanks."_

"I'm trying to be _vulnerable,_ you _jackass—_ "

Thankfully, Ling laughed, cutting through the thick tension in the air. "Okay, Ed. No need."

"Yeah." Ed committed to looking Ling in the eye. "I had _no_ idea about how—how bad things actually got for you. Like, you didn't really tell me _anything,_ and I didn't _know,_ and now I just—feel stupid. I don't know." He exhaled. "I want to be more, y'know, empathetic—"

"What the hell are you talking about, Ed?" Until now, Ling had seemed uncharacteristically glum, letting something press him down—his usual jokiness began to light up his expression. "Can you be a little specific? You can't just—talk about _things_ vaguely, just say what you mean—"

"I didn't know you kept writing to me. Why didn't you ever send me a letter? Why didn't you call me? I could have _talked_ to you, helped you—"

"It hurt too much."

"But wouldn't it just be—be _worse, avoiding—_ "

"I just figured... what's the point anyway, you know?" Ling's posture loosened. "I mean, after everything ended—you got Al back, and I got the philosopher's stone—I just felt like... I shouldn't be sad anymore. Everyone got what they wanted, so it's not my place to be upset—"

"Upset about what? What do you mean?"

"Edward—" the use of his full name startled him a bit—"I was really in love with you. Not that I'm not now—um, that's—forget I said—I was just... well, finishing what I started meant leaving Amestris behind. Leaving you behind. I don't think I was ready to accept that. I guess I thought if I never said goodbye, it wouldn't really—wouldn't really be over." He looked a bit misty. "Being so far from home for the first time was terrifying, but—it was... nice. I mean, I grew up having so many things expected of me—shit, I was a _prince_ —and I spent my whole childhood studying and training to be a nobleman, and my mother really believed in me—she thought I'd be the one to _finally_ get the Yao clan the respect we deserved—I'm... I'm not sure where I'm going, sorry." The flow of his words was broken by a noise somewhere in between a laugh and a choke. "I never was asked what _I_ wanted to do, I just had all this responsibility thrown on me. Which I couldn't have avoided, since I was _born_ into it—I never _asked_ to be _born—_ "

"Hey." Ed moved to the bed, and, although he left a few inches of space, sat next to Ling and folded his hands in his lap. "It's—um, okay."

"—and I _know_ that going to Amestris in the first place was the culmination of all these things—my life was _supposed_ to lead up to becoming emperor! My whole family wanted it so badly, and I didn't want to disappoint them, but sometimes—sometimes it's just hard to do... what they want. I mean, it's been worse in the past few years. When I _was_ emperor, I couldn't really bring myself to get out of bed, or read, or whatever. I just... it was easier to totally avoid my life than face it at all. And it was really bad, because I _finally_ got something that _everyone_ wanted—it's just not my _right_ to waste my opportunity, but I hated being emperor more than anything. I want to—to _help_ people. I mean, there are people I care about deeply, and I'd do anything for them, and I really don't want to let them down or let them suffer, but—I can't even take care of myself. I mean, look at me. Since I got here, I haven't left this damn room, or even my bed, really. I'm fuckin' awful, Ed. I don't think I deserve anything I've gotten? Well, maybe the criticism for being a lazy ruler, and a baby, and a fool, and the embarrassment of the country—whatever—maybe I worked for it, but I didn't _want_ it, and I'm just cheating people out of—I don't know, feeling _fulfilled_ and valued. I don't even value—uh, myself, very much." He weakly dragged his hand across his face. "Sorry. I don't know what I'm talking about. It doesn't—it's not relevant to, uh, your question."

"Ling."

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me any of that? I mean, we've talked about, uh—personal things a lot, in the past. During the winter a couple years ago, you know. Late nights in the forest—but it was always anxiety about the immediate future—promised day stuff, y'know?" Ed scooted closer towards Ling. "I mean, whatever you said then about worrying about being a good emperor just seemed like—normal, I guess. Why wouldn't you tell me anything more?"

"I didn't want to—um, freak you out, I guess."

Ed rolled up his left pant leg, exposing his automail. "You worried about creeping _me_ out with that shit _._ "

"It sounds stupid now that I say it."

"Ling, I—I'm—yeah, I'm abrasive. I'm mean. It's not great. But—I wish you knew that you can always tell me anything. I, um—I just want to... be there for you. However I can."

"Tell me about yourself."

"Myself how?"

"Don't be tough, smartass Ed right now. What are you afraid of?"

Ed laughed loudly, but quickly snapped out of it, realizing it maybe _wasn't_ the right time for that. "A lot of things. I just got used to it, though. I had to."

"Yeah, but what things?"

"Um, I was scared I'd die, or _something,_ and leave Al all alone. That was when we were kids. After our mom died." It was an unusual feeling, uncovering those memories. "I was so convinced I'd die too. And I'd—um, before I went to bed, every night—I'd pray. Which sounds crazy coming from me, but I guess I hadn't become _completely_ cynical yet. I did until I felt safe. I didn't want to tell Al how scared I was, since he's my little brother."

Ling looked down at his own feet again.

"Also—after we tried to bring our mom back—I was really scared that he blamed me for everything that happened. I never told him, though. He actually got pretty angry with me, thinking I was lying to him—but no, I just didn't want to tell him that. I guess—well, it's easier to act like the problems aren't there than actually do something about them. Like you said. I always made sure to act angry, excited, or—whatever, around my brother. Be a little asshole. It was easier than breaking down crying and having to explain that to absolute _fuckers_ like Mustang—"

"He's not easy to talk to."

"He _really_ isn't."

"Wait, but Ed—why didn't _you_ tell _me_ any of that before?"

"It's just personal shit."

"It's like you—I mean... yeah. I guess. I guess that's fair."

Ed desperately tried to deflect. "Ling, you never finished talking about—um, yourself?"

"Okay, what else did Lan Fan tell you about without actually explaining it?"

"How did it really happen? You getting confronted about all your... stuff."

"I kept writing letters to you. Like I said, even though it was all part of the grand scheme to get me on the throne, being away from home was just so—freeing. No one there to constantly pressure me, force me to do things. I was looking for a myself to be. I mean, Fu wasn't on my back about anything. He was like... more of a cool uncle, you know? Looking out for you, taking your side in disagreements with your mom—"  
"Well, no. I barely have family to speak of."

"Right. Sorry."

The room had become darker, with the setting of the sun having finished, leaving a dark sky in its place.

"Ed, talking to you at first—that was my choice. I mean, when I met you, I knew I liked something about you—"

"I wonder _what_ that _could_ have _been,_ " said Ed, grinning.

"Shut up, oh my god!—you were really just like me, just a kid, but I felt, uh—more alive around you, you know? You're so stubborn, it riles up everyone who speaks to you. You're unrelentingly yourself. I saw it was—okay, I guess, to make _big choices_ and that sometimes being impulsive was an option, I guess. Maybe it's not true, but you really do look like the most fearless person I've ever known. That's what—mm, attracted me most, I guess."

Ed dared to lean his head on Ling's shoulder. "Huh."

Ling continued, although it was hard—he had to choke down an explosion of overwhelmingness, and felt it sizzle in his chest. "I didn't want to send you letters, or call you, or anything, because it... sealed the deal, I guess. You really were gone. You weren't just there, you know. But writing to 'you' was different. It felt like I was just talking to you. Like always. Brave, smart, ridiculous you, who made speaking my mind seem so much easier."

"That's ironic. I'm very bad at talking about my feelings."

"Ha ha. But eventually, writing to you just made me—it was another way for me to escape from my life. It was really weird. I really didn't enjoy the job of emperor, and to be honest, I was pretty bad at it—there was this one meeting with the Aerugan embassy that I _really_ try not to think about, oh god—but I also hated myself for... not doing anything. I was miserable either way. Miserable doing the job, miserable avoiding it. I had to cut myself off from everything that distracted me from—whatever. I just had to let my feelings stew. Deal with it, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't want to burn the letters. It felt too final, too dramatic. Too much like something _you'd_ do—"

_"Hey—_ "

"—so I just hid them in my room. Then they turned up months later, and before I even knew what was happening, it was like everyone in the palace had read them. It was really awkward."

"I can only imagine."

"Um, well, the letters themselves might've been old by then, but the feelings were still there. I already pissed people off, being too moody, or—incompetent, or whatever. Openly admitting to hating being emperor was really the cherry on top for my cabinet. They, uh—I mean, it was just like what Lan Fan must have told you. They told me they'd leak all the letters, see what the public would think of me after that, or I could resign. That's really what happened."

"That feels... unfair."

"Honestly, I didn't care in the moment—it was the chance I was looking for to just... abandon everything that was causing me problems. And immediately after, I regretted it. Not because I wanted to be emperor, but because it was so selfish. Stupid. I caused so many problems for other people. They're all worked up over _me!_ I'm not worth that. I'm just—Xing'd be better off without me, I think. That's why I didn't want to go back, even when they wanted me to—say _something, anything_. I was so fucking _ashamed_ of myself. I really can't handle anything. I'm not going to lie, sometimes I feel like I'm a waste of time. I can't do anything. I can't follow through. I just want to hide for the rest of my life."

"If it makes you feel better, Ling, I would punch a thousand people smack in the face for the _idea_ of you."

"What an interesting way of flirting you have, Edward." Ling got kneed for that—with the metal one, no less.

"I mean it. Really. Ling, you're—you're one of the kindest people I know. You bend over backwards to make people happy. To help people. It's kind of stunning. I just—I'm not sure. I think you ought to realize there's a way to find a balance. You've got to be selfish sometimes, or else you're going to run yourself into the ground."

"I guess."

"You didn't want to disappoint your family, so you grew up groomed for politics. You hated it, but you wanted to see them happy."

"Yeah."

"Hell, you tried _so_ hard to get a philosopher's stone. To reach that one goal. The whole time, you had to shut up that voice inside you— _your_ voice—whose heart wasn't in it. You did it anyway. You became a _homunculus,_ for god's sake—"

"I'm honestly still not quite sure how I let that happen. Heat of the moment, I guess." Softly, cautiously, he rested his hand on the back of Ed's neck.

"You stayed emperor for nearly two years even though you never wanted it in the first place—and please don't take this the wrong way, but I hope that fiercely kind part of you realizes that you were doing a disservice to the people and country you care so much for by half-assing the job—no, quarter-assing it—" Ed craned his neck oddly, something of a smile flickering across his face.

"I get it. I get it, Ed. It's okay."

"—you didn't want to come _back_ to the capital just to meddle in politics again, but you did it anyway, because you at _least_ wanted to put people's concerns to rest—"

"I—yeah."

"You give so much, it's crazy. No wonder you have no effort left to put towards being kind to yourself. You deserve—uh, you deserve to receive, too, Ling."

"I guess that's true." Possessed by some ghost of a smile as well, he faced Ed square-on. "You know, you have to let people in too. Let people love you. You can't push that away."

"I'm not very good at holding up my end of the emotional bargain, either, am I?"

"No. Not at all." Ling had to look away—he wasn't sure he'd be able to let his next words tumble out, looking straight at Ed. "We were really good together, weren't we?"

"Huh. We really were."

The night wrapped them quite comfortably, allowing them both to breathe at last. Ling didn't need to think about it—the unknowable darkness was his buffer, letting him take a stab at whatever he wanted without considering the consequences—

He pulled Ed's face towards his own in a kiss, which was quickly returned. It wasn't particularly hungry, or desperate—it was resolute in its safety.

Holding each other, they fell over, their sides pressed into the mattress. Eventually, kissing devolved into staring—their faces were somehow novel to each other, even after years of friendship. Ling couldn't help but giggle at Ed's scowl—even like this, his features made him cross. Man, he was something else. He traced the thin scar running halfway across Ed's forehead with his thumb, and, in turn, Ed snorted. He liked Ling's eyes—dark, lovely, carrying a warmth that animated his entire body.

Ed was the first to fall asleep. Ling was content to be quietly beside him. In this space he was suspended—nothing else quite mattered to him then.

Eventually, he fell asleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this chapter is almost 3k words long so that's something. no this isn't the last chapter >:-3 also it's like 2:30 am so let's hope my words make sense thanks. This oen goes out to my follow ygays thanks everone  
> title/desc from valentine by fiona apple


	10. my boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [it'll take some time, but somewhere down the line, we won't be alone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNqJFVOKaU0)

The picture frame is simple, but nice—Winry always takes pride in her work, no matter what it is. They had asked for no gifts, but she wanted to give them at _least_ this. It sits atop the dresser, which stands by an open the window—the same one that Ed's looked out of every morning for nearly five years, now.

It's Ling's handwriting that marks the corner of the photograph— _2 Aug. 20_ —since his has always been neater than Ed's, who doesn't take the time to check and see if what he's written is even legible. He's always been the clumsy one, not quite able to fit himself around his own words or think in a straight line.

Al was the one who brought a camera. His big brother was getting _married—_ the kind of miracle that urged you to drop everything to watch it happen. He and Ed talk often, laughing and yelling at each other and making sure to say  _"I love you"_ before hanging up.

Ed was afraid of getting married at first, tending to shy away from the sentimental. He agreed to having the ceremony on a beach in southern Xing, where Ling and Lan Fan had spent summers as children. He protested at first, saying a beach wedding was too corny, but Ling reminded him that he'd probably say the same thing about any other place—it wouldn't have to be anything big, that it'd just be a few people. This sounded nice to both of them.

The picture frames Ed and Ling well, cut off just below their elbows. Ling wears red, Ed wears white. They stand close, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, faces only turned towards the camera in part—they seem more distracted by each other, caught up in each other's laughter, eyes half-open in the biggest smile. The sun's barely setting, and the dimming light turns the whole scene the kind of rosy that doesn't seem possible in real life.

Ed had never seen the ocean before. He liked it very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE!! it is not very eventful because i liked the ambiguous way the last chapter ended but i wanted to put up some sort of epilogue i guess. thanks everyone for commenting and leaving kudos, this is the longest story i've ever written and i probably wouldn't have done it w/o the encouragement? I don't know why i'm being sappy it's a fucken fma fanfiction. probably will do other things with this au in the future stay tuned k bye  
> title/desc from my boy by car seat headrest (it would do you good to listen to that album and think about edling, i promise) :-D


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